A Boy Named Jayne
by Glacier-to-be
Summary: Sort of a continuation (at least continuity) of "My Clothes!" but Jayne-centered... Simon discovers a poemballad that reminds him of his favorite mercenary.


The real world is like being nibbled to death by ducks.  
  
Disclaimer: Firefly characters' not mine, and this here poem is by the wonderful Shel Silverstein, (apparently.)  
  
Authors Note: I have this song on a C.D, and I couldn't help but relate it to one of our favorite mercenaries. I can't help but think Joss Whedon got some inspiration from this song/poem.  
  
This is also sort of a continuation of "My Clothes" but not really. I might do more later.  
  
The young doctor, normally so clean and spick-n-span with his knit sweaters etc was pulling absently at the unfamiliar jacket, (brown, faded leather, bought second hand on some God-forsaken moon by an enthusiastic Kaylee, smelling suspiciously of tobacco.) But for the first time that morning, he'd found something that drew his attention away from the loss of his former wardrobe.  
He was in an dusty book store, and by chance had found an old copy of Shel Silverstein's poems lying out on top of a pile of books. (The bookstore wasn't organized in any recognizable way to Simon, although if he had looked more carefully he would have found that each book on a shelf was carefully shelved in accordance to the old Earth-that-was Dewey Decimal system, the owner being a somewhat nostalgic and backwards man, following a family tradition passed on over centuries.)  
When he saw the Shel Silverstein book, he was reminded of past days... when he and River were only toddlers (she was still a genius though,) and their mother read poems aloud to him at night.  
He flipped through the yellowing pages, recognizing a few. He'd forgotten how archaic the poems were—definitely 20th or 21st century Earth- that was. He stopped and read one entitled "A Boy Named Sue."  
  
A Boy Named Sue

Well, my daddy left home when I was three,

and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,

just this old guitar and a bottle of booze.

Now I don't blame him because he run and hid,

but the meanest thing that he ever did was

before he left he went and named me Sue.  
  
Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke,

and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks,

it seems I had to fight my whole life through.

Some gal would giggle and I'd get red

and some guy would laugh and I'd bust his head,

I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue.

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean. 

My fist got hard and my wits got keen.

Roamed from town to town to hide my shame,

but I made me a vow to the moon and the stars,

I'd search the honky tonks and bars and kill

that man that gave me that awful name.  
  
But it was Gatlinburg in mid July and I had

just hit town and my throat was dry.

I'd thought i'd stop and have myself a brew.

At an old saloon in a street of mud

and at a table dealing stud sat the dirty,

mangy dog that named me Sue.

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad 

from a worn-out picture that my mother had

and I knew the scar on his cheek and his evil eye.

He was big and bent and gray and old

and I looked at him and my blood ran cold,

and I said, "My name is Sue. How do you do?

Now you're gonna die." Yeah, that's what I told him.

Well, I hit him right between the eyes and he went down 

but to my surprise he came up with a knife

and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair

right across his teeth. And we crashed through

the wall and into the street kicking and a-gouging

in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell you I've fought tougher men but I really can't remember when. He kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile. 

I heard him laughin' and then I heard him cussin',

he went for his gun and I pulled mine first.

He stood there looking at me and I saw him smile.  
  
And he said, "Son, this world is rough and if

a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough

and I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along.

So I gave you that name and I said 'Goodbye'.

I knew you'd have to get tough or die. And it's

that name that helped to make you strong."

Yeah, he said, "Now you have just fought one helluva fight, 

and I know you hate me and you've got the right

to kill me now and I wouldn't blame you if you do.

But you ought to thank me before I die

for the gravel in your guts and the spit in your eye

because I'm the motherfucker that named you Sue."

Yeah, what could I do? What could I do?  
  
I got all choked up and I threw down my gun,

called him pa and he called me a son,

and I came away with a different point of view

and I think about him now and then.

Every time I tried, every time I win

and if I ever have a son I think I am gonna name him

Bill or George! - anything but Sue.  
  
-Shel Silverstein.  
  
Simon gaped like a fish. This was quite something...

TBC: Don't worry, I know what I'm going to do, I'm just too tired, so I'll post soon. Something will actually happen. (well, nothing big, because nothing big happens in my stories, but there will be a Jayne-receiving-poem moment.) 


End file.
